the sky and the plain. There is something to observe, also, in the
proportions of the man to the background. The broad pyramid made by
the bending figure and the hoe needs plenty of space at each side to
set it off, hence the oblong shape of the picture. These, and other
artistic qualities not so easily observed and understood, all give the
picture "a place among the greater artistic conceptions of all time."
The Man with the Hoe has probably caused more discussion than any
other of Millet's paintings. From the very first those who care only
for the subject of a picture have condemned it, while the critics have
praised its artistic qualities. Many have thought that Millet made
the subject as unpleasant as possible in order to show the degrading
effects of work. The same theory was suggested when the Sower and
the Gleaners appeared. The painter himself was much troubled by these
misunderstandings. "I have never dreamed of being a pleader in any
cause," he said. He simply painted life as he saw it, and had no
thought of teaching strange doctrines against labor. Indeed, no man
ever felt more deeply than he the dignity of labor.
When everything which could be said for or against the picture had
been exhausted on the other side of the Atlantic, the picture was
brought to this country and finally to the State of California. Here
the discussion began all over again. There were those who were so
impressed by the unpleasant character of the subject that they could
not find words strong enough to express their horror. The Man with
the Hoe was called "a monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched," a
"dread" and "terrible" shape, "a thing that grieves not and that never
hopes," a "brother to the ox," and many other things which would have
surprised and grieved Millet.
Of course, any one to whom the pathos of the subject itself appeals
so strongly can have little thought for the artistic qualities of the
picture. So Edwin Markham, the writer of the poem from which
these expressions are quoted, lets the subject lead him on into an
impassioned protest against "the degradation of labor,--the oppression
of man by man,"--all of which has nothing to do with the picture.
Millet was not one to care at all for what he called "pretty"
subjects, as we have already seen in studying the picture of the
Milkmaid. "He felt that only by giving to his figures the expression
and character which belonged to their condition could he obey the laws
of beauty in art, for he knew that a work of art is beautiful only
when it is homogeneous."[1]
This was the theory which he put into practice in the Man with the
Hoe, and one who understands well both his theories and his art sums
up the great painting in these words: "The noble proportions of the
figure alone would give this work a place among the greater artistic
conceptions of all time, while the severe and simple pathos of this
moment of respite in the interminable earth struggle, invests it with
a sublimity which belongs to eternal things alone." [2]
[Footnote 1: Pierre Millet in the _Century_.]
[Footnote 2: Henry Naegely.]
XVI
THE PORTRAIT OF MILLET
In studying the works of any great painter many questions naturally
arise as to the personality of the man himself and the influences
which shaped his life. Some such questions have already been answered
as we have examined these fifteen pictures by Millet. Jean François
Millet, we have learned, was of peasant parentage and spent the
greater part of his life in the country. His pious Norman ancestors
bequeathed him a rich heritage of strong and serious traits. From
them, too, he drew that patience and perseverance which helped him to
overcome so many obstacles in his career.
In the surroundings of his childhood he saw no pictures and heard
nothing of art or artists. Yet at a very early age he showed a
remarkable talent for drawing. His artistic temperament was inherited
from his father, who was a great lover of music and of everything
beautiful. "Look," he sometimes said, plucking a blade of grass
and showing it to his little boy, "how beautiful this is." His
grandmother, too, had a true poetic vein in her nature. She would come
to the child's bedside in the morning, calling, "Wake up, my little
François, you don't know how long the birds have been singing the
glory of God." In such a family the youth's gifts were readily
recognized, and he was sent to Cherbourg, the nearest large town,
to learn to be a painter. Here, and later in Paris, he received
instruction from various artists, but his greatest teacher was Nature.
So he turned from the schools of Paris, and the artificial standards
of his fellow artists there, to study for himself, at first hand, the
peasant life he wished to portray. What a delightful place Barbizon
was for such work we have seen from some of his pictures.
It was during the fruitful years of work at Barbizon that Millet
made the crayon portrait of himself which is reproduced as our
frontispiece. He was a large, strong, deep-chested man, somewhat above
the medium height. An admirer has described him as "one of nature's
noblemen," and his younger brother Pierre says he was "built like
a Hercules." He had an inherent distaste for fine clothes which he
showed even in boyhood. When he grew to be a painter, and returned to
visit his family in Gréville, the villagers were scandalized to see
the city artist appear in their streets in blouse and sabots.
As we see in the portrait, Millet had long wavy hair, falling over
his shoulders, and a thick black beard. His forehead was high and
intelligent, and his nose delicately cut and sensitive. His eyes were
gray-blue, of the kind which look a man through and through and which
nothing escapes. The artist had so trained these wonderful eyes of his
that he had only to turn them on a scene to photograph the impression
indelibly on his memory.
The face that we see in the portrait is that of a thinker, a poet, and
an artist. It is the face of one who held intimate converse with the
great poets of the ages, of one whose favorite books were the Bible,
Virgil, Theocritus and Shakespeare. Though Millet had many genial
traits in his nature, his expression here is profoundly serious. Such
an expression tells much of the inner life of the man. His pictures
were too original to be popular at once, and while he waited for
purchasers he found it hard to support his family. His anxieties wore
upon his health, and he was subject to frequent headaches of frightful
severity. Nor was the struggle with poverty his only trial. He had to
contend constantly against the misconceptions and misrepresentations
of hostile critics.
He was of too stern a nature and too loyal to his ideals to vary a
hair's breadth from his course, yet criticism embittered him. "Give me
signboards to paint, if you will," he exclaimed, "but at least let
me think out my subjects in my own fashion and finish the work that I
have to do, in peace."
Like all who have great originality, Millet lived in a world of his
own, and had but a few congenial friends. To such friends, however,
and in the inner circle of his home, he opened his great and tender
heart, and all who knew him loved him.